Upon contact, a look of confusion crossed Al’s face, but it only lasted for a moment—as soon as Lennon let go of Al’s hand, Al’s expression returned to normal.
Jude’s mother cleared her throat, and with a little more volume than was strictly necessary, redirected the conversation. “Al here was just telling us that he is a foreigner from Greece.”
“No kidding?” Lennon asked. “I spent spring break in Mykonos a few years back. What part are you from?”
“Um.” Al glanced at Jude, whose asshole was now clenched so tight, it had practically sealed shut. He’d forgotten that Lennon had traveled to Greece, largely because in his day-to-day life, he tried not to remember Lennon at all. “I am from… Athens.”
“That’s what’s up, man. I stayed an extra day and took my home flight out of there so I could get a quick look around the city. Beautiful place.”
Al stared at Lennon a few too many beats to be comfortable.
“Yes. I feel this way about Athens, Greece as well,” he said at last.
“Must be crazy to live so close to all those ruins.”
A crease formed on Al’s forehead. “How is Athens beautiful and also ruined? Those are not similar description words.”
“No, man.” Lennon laughed. “I meant theruins. Like the Acropolis and stuff.”
“Oh. Right, yes, of course. I understand you now.”
It was very obvious to Jude that Al did not understand at all.
“Have y’all figured out what you’d like to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” the server asked, materializing out of nowhere like an angel swooping in to save the day. Jude could kiss him.
“Give us just a few,” Lennon said, winking at the server and picking up his menu. From beside him, Jude heard Al mutter something under his breath, which he was certain was a complaint about how “a few” was not a specific increment of time.
The server left, and thankfully all talk of Greece was forgotten. In lieu of conversation, everyone at the table finally opened their menus and started reading, giving Jude’s poor clenched asshole a chance to recover. He relished the silence, using it to internally talk himself back from the edge of what had almost been a full-on mental breakdown, when suddenly his stomach rumbled, and he realized that he was fuckingstarving… which didn’t make a lot of sense, as he’d been stress eating the whole day.
He’d been stress eating a lot lately, come to think of it, and it was starting to take its toll. The band of his jeans was digging uncomfortably into his waist now, and these were jeans that had been a little too big just a few months ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about a little extra weight gain when he was this unreasonably hungry.
He scanned the menu, but it did little good—he craved just about everything he saw. It wasn’t going to be easy narrowing it down, but he’d have to figure it out, because “one of everything” wasn’t in the budget.
Next to him, Al shifted and let out a teeny-tiny whine of frustration. “Half of this food book is not in English,” he said, leaning over to whisper in Jude’s ear, “and I very strongly want to talk about it, but you said I cannot.”
Jude bit back a smile. “You can talk to me about it later.”
“What are you two lovebirds whispering about over there?” Lennon asked. “Nothing too inappropriate for the dinner table, I hope?”
“Honestly, Lennon, don’t encourage your brother.” Jude’s mother wrinkled her nose. “I don’t need to think about what kind of inappropriate things the two of them might talk about.”
The blatant disrespect was too much. Jude’s temper flared. He had been trying his best to keep a low profile and not give his mother any ammunition with which to start a fight, but nope. That plan was now officially out the window, because fuck that. Fuckallof that.
Fists balled and jaw clenched, he looked his mother straight in the eyes and asked in an icy voice, “And what the fuck are you so afraid I might be saying, Mom?”
“Watch your language,” she shot back. “And don’t get an attitude with me, young man. Your father and I have been supremely accepting of your choices, but it is not unreasonable for us to want you to keep your…lifestyleto yourself.”
“Oh dear god, not the lifestyle talk again.” Jude pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think gay people are only capable of talking about gay things? Do you think I’m sitting here whispering to my boyfriend about big gay dicks?”
Jude’s mother put a hand to her chest with a gasp, as if he had threatened to kick a baby. His dad grunted in disapproval. Lennon burst out laughing.
“Take it easy on the kid, Ma,” he said, thumping Jude on the back.
“Ow,” Jude muttered.
“You know Judy’s always been thin-skinned,” Lennon continued. “Our sensitive little artist.” He booped Jude on the nose, and if Jude were Bruce Banner, he would have instantly Hulked out.
“That doesn’t give him the right to speak like that to his mother,” his mother said haughtily, and his dad grunted in agreement. “Jude, don’t you think it’s time you get it together and stop acting so childish? It’s embarrassing that you’re still having outbursts at the dinner table, just like when you were younger.”
